


On the Battlements of Winterfell

by Sleepless_Malice



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eskimo Kisses, F/M, Fluff, Soft Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: For the prompt: JonSa + Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Tumblr Drabbles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/510082
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	On the Battlements of Winterfell

An icy wind from the North blows across the battlements of Winterfell. The world’s veiled in darkness, save from the burning fires below.

“We shouldn’t be up here,” Jon rasps, rubbing his fingers against the cold.

“Say, where else should we be?” Sansa says, and to Jon it is as if suggestiveness rings in her voice. Of late, it’s often there, he thinks – or is it not?

Jon doesn’t answer her. Instead, he covers her hands, so small and delicate, with his own.

“You are cold.” He feels it despite the gloves.

Sansa’s smile is radiant. “And yet I am burning.”

She bridges the last remaining distance between them, lifting her hand to brush a wayward strand out of his face. “See?” she coos.

He can’t resist her, not now, not then when first they’ve stood on the deserted battlements so long ago. His arms wrap around her body on their own accord, pressing her flush against him. “I see.”

Thick fur prevents that she feels what’s undeniably there, not that she’d ever mind. Then, he leans in until their foreheads touch and their noses brush together.

Sansa laughs. “Jon!”

“What?” He teases.

“Is that how you kiss Beyond the Wall?” Equal tease rings in Sansa’s voice.

“No,” Jon tells her, letting his nose wander along the bridge of Sansa’s.

“Jon!” she laughs, and the sound of it, aglow with sweetness, chases the cold away.

And in the wake of it, Sansa tilts her head so that their noses aren’t touching. She’s watching him, and he’s watching her in return. There’s no need to disturb the silence, and according to Sansa, he better hurries up. She cranes her neck in silent invitation, pulling him close when he’s too slow to obey.

“Sansa.” His lips brush over Sansa’s, and he feels her smile into the kiss.

“I can’t go back to pretending that I don’t love you,” Sansa whispers, robbing him of the possibility to answer. She’s sealing their lips closely, in a way that Jon adores: sweet and gentle, yet with a certain urgency.

 _‘Then don’t.’_ He doesn’t say it into the empty space between their lips, leaning forward until their foreheads rest against each other again.

*


End file.
